The High Five Ghost Story
by German Speaking Horse
Summary: Fives is having some strange dreams, over and over again. Could this possibly have anything to do with his death? *Humanized*
1. Chapter 1

_Chauncey, Moe, his girlfriend, and I were in the back of Chauncey's pickup truck. We were all clearly drunk. Chauncey was flirting with me, and I was flirting back.  
_

_Moe's girlfriend said something to Chauncey, something that I didn't like, I guess. _

_I yelled at her. I chugged down my umpteenth beer or the night and chucked the empty bottle at her._

_She tackled me, and I punched that bitch in the face. Somebody, Larry, maybe, started up the truck and we went driving down the street to Moe's house.  
_

_Me and Bitchface were still fighting in the back of the truck. Chauncey was trying to break up the fight and Moe, that prick, wasn't doing anything._

_And then I kicked Moe's girlfriend off of me. Larry was driving really fast and drunkenly, and Moe's girlfriend... she flew out of the back of the truck, hitting the street.  
_

_Moe punched me in the face, yelling something. We got in a fight.  
_

_And then... _

_The telephone pole..._

_And... and the... the fire..._

* * *

I woke up in a cold sweat. There was that dream again. I'd been having variations of it again and again for the past few weeks. Me getting in a fight with some chick, accidentally killing her; driver crashes into telephone pole; we all die in a firey car crash. I got up from my bed and floated over to the kitchen-ish area. I needed some water. It was difficult to do with only one arm, but I managed.

I thought suddenly occurred to me: I don't even know how I lost my left arm. I also don't remember how I got this scar on the side of my face. I'd been like this for as long as I remembered (which wasn't too long) and I'd never questioned it.

I shrugged my shoulders and drank my water. I didn't want to go back to bed, so I went outside for an evening stroll (though in reality it was midnight or something). I needed to clear my mind. And I needed to think.

_Why was I having this dream?_ I thought to myself. _Could __it have to do with..._

I felt my eyes tearing up. Don't cry, you baby. It's probably not... that.

No, couldn't be. I'll just ask somebody about my dreams. Yeah.

* * *

Sleeping on a park bench was none other than Rigby. He's not exactly my favorite person in the world, but still. Could be worth a try, right?

"Hey Rigby, wake up!" I whisper-yelled.

"Fives? It's 2 in the AM PM," Rigby said, subconsciously being redundant. "What do you want?"

"I... Why are you sleeping on a bench?" I asked.

"Mordecai kicked me out." said the shorter male.

"Okay... Well, d'you think you can help me with something?" I asked.

"Dude, are you finally coming out of the closet?" asked Rigby.

"What, no!" I blushed a little bit, though I don't think he noticed. "I'm not... no! Rigby, this is serious!"

"OK, OK, fine. You can tell the Rigmaster anything." he said, sitting up.

"Well, I've been having this dream over and over, for the past week or so. Me and a bunch of my friends... well... we kinda all die in a car crash." I said, my voice getting kinda quiet near the end. Death is a sensitive subject for me. "And, I wanna know if this has anything to do with..."

"Oh, I get it. I think. You'll have to bother Skips about this one, bro. I'm not really sure how the whole 'being a ghost' thing works." Rigby said. "Oh, and nice pajamas!" Rigby snickered and laid back down on the park bench.

Hm. Thanks a lot Rigby. I floated towards Skips' house. The buff groundskeeper seemed to be awake, as there were lights on in his house. I looked through his window. He was reading.

I floated through a wall. "Skips! I need your help with something!"

"I'd appreciate if you knocked before entering." said Skips, not looking up from his book.

"Oh, sorry about that. Well, what do you know about reccurring dreams?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: **Four days is a long time, isn't it?, when you're waiting for an author to update their story. Also, I feel like I'm dying from allergies right about now. Stupid pollen. Don't forget, this story is HUMANIZED. That means, Skips isn't a yeti, by the way.**

* * *

"Hm..." said Skips. "How long have you been having these dreams, Fives?"

"I dunno, about two, three weeks." I replied. "It's more or less the same thing: me and a bunch a friends are drunk and we all die in a car crash. D'you think it has anything to do with..."

"Your death? Probably. I don't know too many ghosts, so I don't know how this kinda thing works, but I'm pretty sure that's what that is." Skips said. He walked... er, skipped over to his bookshelf and picked up a green book. He flipped to a page and, after reading it, instructed me to lay down on the couch (which was rather difficult, seeing as I kept subconsciously floating through the cushions).

"Okay, close your eyes." Skips said, as he pressed something against my forehead. It felt like some kind of fabric. Suddenly, I felt a shock. A small one, but a shock nonetheless. Soon, I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_We were in an RV this time. Sitting to the right of me was Chauncey, his arm around me. To the left was... _

_"Skips?!" I yelled. "Why are you here?"_

_He didn't answer._

_I looked around. Everyone else was laughing and talking. I guess nobody noticed him. Or my sudden outburst._

_"Wait, is this one of those things where you know you're dreaming?" I asked Skips. The buff man nodded. "Can I control it?"  
_

_"No."_

_Damn. Oh well. I looked around. Chauncey, Moe and his girlfriend (who were sitting on a bed), Larry, we were all back here. Who the hell was driving this thing? I got out of my seat and starting going to the front when Chauncey stopped me.  
_

_"Hey dude, where are you going?" he asked. He didn't seem to be drunk. In fact, nobody was._

_"I... uh... who's driving this?" I asked. _

_He shrugged. "Why does it matter?"_

_This time, I shrugged. "Well, I'm going to the bathroom." Chauncey said. "Stay cute!"_

_"Didn't know you swung that way." Skips said, as he seemingly appeared from nowhere._

_"When did you...?!" he skipped past me and into the drivers' section... place... area. Whatever. He was shocked. I came over to see what the deal was. Driving the RV was some skeleton dude that looks kinda like Lemmy Kilmister, from Motorhead.  
_

_He turned around, clearly not focusing on the road anymore. "Why hello there, Skips! Long time no see."_

_"Death, what're you doing in Fives' dream?" Skips asked. _

_"I'm here to collect the one soul still missing from this scene." he stood up and poked me in the chest. "Yours."_


End file.
